The Aftermath
by Rb
Summary: Rachel is deep in depression in 'the aftermath' of the war.


**The Aftermath  
by Rb**  


* * *

  
  


**PART ONE**  


  


Rachel stared at the computer screen in front of her, as always. Nothing would make her turn away.  
  
Marco cursed silently. He'd finally resigned himself to the fact that no one and nothing was able to pierce Rachel's awareness. It had been going on for months now. Cassie, Jake, or himself always had to be by her side, forcing her to eat, bath, and sleep. Not even he could make a joke about her quietness.  
  
Not that Marco blamed Rachel for being like this. They all had been depressed for a while after that last battle, after the war was over and the adrenaline wore off. They'd all lost family members, their few remaining friends, and part of themselves. Perhaps a soul, if Marco had still believed in one.  
  
Ax had gone back to the Andalite Homeworld, in dishonor. Ax had been blamed for giving the humans the power, even though it was clear that by Elfangor's actions, Earth had been saved and the tide of the war had changed. Ax would be 'forgiven' and would be allowed to go back to his training with one condition; never go back to Earth again. Never have any contact with the humans. The high-and-mighty Andalites had disgraced the best warrior on their planet.  
  
Long, tiresome years had passed since they'd received the power to morph, to become any animal they could choose. And barely a year ago, the need had stopped. The Yeerks had been driven from Earth. But billions of people had died. Parts of the glorious planet had been turned into barren wastelands, unfit for human cultivation. Governments were overturned. Dictators, greedy men and women, had tried to take over the world, and in some places had succeeded. And the Animorphs, who had saved the world? They were hated, barely able to leave their town, for they had made the world into this.  
  
Marco was sick of it, though. Cassie was always hopeful about improvement. But Cassie was busy with her baby son. Jake was trying to be heroic leader of the world, and was always out trying to get the world to normal. Marco hadn't the heart to tell him that it was futile. And Rachel? Rachel was deep in depression, cursing herself for the loss of Tobias.   
  
Tobias had died in that last battle, bravely, but he had been their first real loss. All of the other times someone had died, he or she'd come back to life, but this time, Tobias was really dead.  
  
They'd all taken his death to heart, of course, but Rachel had taken it the hardest. Rachel barely left her room, her blonde hair lank, like it had never been brushed, her blue eyes dull, rarely speaking, always reading books or using the computer. Jake, Cassie, and himself had agreed to never leave her alone, in case . . . in case she started doing things more self-destructive to herself. But what was worse, slitting her wrists or destroying herself in a pool of pity?  
  
"Rachel, stop it," Marco said suddenly. For no clear reason that he could understand.  
  
There was no reaction. "Rachel!" he snapped. Still no reaction. He bit his lip and swung at her cheek.  
  
His fist connected. Her cheek turned red. Her upper body swiveled and she glared at Marco. "What?" she asked icily.  
  
"I'm sick of this," Marco said, for no real planned thoughts had jumped to his head. "I want you to say something."  
  
"Something," she said wryly, a petulant six year old. "Why'd you slap me?"  
  
"Because I'm sick of how you're acting about Tobias. He's dead, okay? Get over it."  
  
At the mention of the boy's name, Rachel sat up straight and really looked at him for the first time in months. Like he was a puzzle she had to figure out.  
  
"Tobias wouldn't have wanted you like this," he continued desperately. "You have got to wake up. You've got to act like Rachel, not an empty shell."  
  
Rachel stood up, glaring at him. Marco gulped. He had grown taller, but Rachel still towered over him. "What did you say?" she asked.  
  
"I said that Tobias wouldn't have wanted you like this," Marco said, half glad that his plan had worked, half frightened by this girl he had known for so long but barely knew, now anyway, at all.  
  
"Like WHAT?" she asked, her voice growing angrier.  
  
"Like the living dead."  
  
"I deserve to. Tobias was closer to me than my own sisters."  
  
"He died with honor, Rachel. Be proud of that."  
  
"With honor," Rachel mocked, "what does that mean? That grieving relatives get a medal for him dying?"  
  
"You're right," Marco conceded. "It's a stupid expression." Inside, he was secretly glad that Rachel was talking. "So, what are you going to do now? Go back to your depression?"  
  
This was wrong of him to do, he knew, not how she should be treating her at all, but they needed Rachel. Everyone else hated them. _Afraid of the freaks_, his mind echoed harshly. _Yes. Us Animorphs freaks. Hated for saving our planet. Or did we? We need Rachel back, as Rachel._  
  
She stared around the room, looking for a way out, until her eyes locked on Marco's. He couldn't look away. All he could do was stare with a fascinated horror as her face began to twist with repressed memories.  
  


**PART TWO**  


  
We were prepared. We KNEW this would be the last battle. The Andalites had come. The people on Earth knew. But this last  
battle between Visser Three, our worst enemy, and us, the Animorphs, decided who really won the war. We were tense. If we  
lost this battle . . . I blocked the thought. So many of our friends, our relatives were already dead.  
  
"Okay everyone," Jake's voice. "Let's morph."   
  
I focused my mind on the grizzly bear. My grizzly is immensely powerful. No land animal can touch it.  
  
The morph started quickly. I grew to a height of about eight feet. Rough, shaggy brown fur covered me. My fingers shriveled into iron sharp claws. My teeth itched as stronger grizzly teeth took place of my pathetic weak human teeth. My nose and ears both grew. My eyes grew weaker. This animal didn't depend on sight. Like most other animals, it used its ears and nose to realize what was around it.   
  
I knew what changes were going throught the others. Jake, in his tiger morph, had dropped to all fours, with claws and teeth, that, while not quite as powerful as mine, were incredibly fast. Cassie had changed to a wolf, with ears and nose to rival mine, and teeth that could slice through the throat of a struggling deer. Marco had changed to a gorilla, with powerful arms that could throw me into a dumpster. Ax had demorphed to his normal Andalite shape, with a wickedly sharp tail blade. And Tobias . . . Tobias had black dots on his yellow fur. He had grown in length and strength so instead of his normal hawk body, he had become a leopard. He almost looked like a smaller version of Jake, a thing of beauty and grace, and danger.  
  
< Let's do it! > I yelled, as I did before every battle.  
  
We loped towards the room we knew the Yeerks were in.  
  
< Holy.. > someone muttered as we burst through the door. There must have been two hundred Hork-Bajir! We and the twenty Andalite warriors with us could never . . . WHAM! A Hork-bajir smashed into me. A quick swipe of my claws, and he was . . .  
  
The next half hour was a whirlwind of violence, blood, and painful memories. My claws raking a Hork-bajir across the face . . . Cassie, in her wolf morph, biting and trying to get out of the circle of Hork-bajir that surrounded her . . . Ax slicing anything that was in reach...  
  
< You dirty slug! > Tobias's 'voice'. I looked up, somewhat surprised. Usually, during battles we didn't have time for screaming names at the Yeerks. That's what we reserved for afterwards.  
  
Then, even with the grizzly's weak eyesight, I saw it. Tobias surrounded by too many Hork-bajir, helpless. And in the center was Visser Three.  
  
< Ah, my precious "Animorph", > Visser Three said. His voice filled me with loathing. < Tobias, I believe. Son of beast Elfangor, if I'm not mistaken? >   
  
< At least I'm the son of a prince and not a filthy slug! > Tobias yelled hotly. No one disparaged Elfangor in Tobias's hearing. Not unless they wanted to die.  
  
< You amuse me, > the Visser said, his tone cruel. < Brave warriors, > he mocked. < Never give up. Free or dead. >  
  
I was fighting. I was using every trick I knew. I knew the Hork-Bajirs' strengths and weaknesses so well it's like I was  
them.   
  
Basically, I had been them.  
  
My grizzly morph was fighting. But it was losing. There were too many of the aliens fighting me. Their blood mingled with my own.  
  
But none of this mattered. Tobias was fighting Visser Three. A leopard against an Andalite. There was no way Tobias could  
win.  
  
< Tobias! > I cried.  
  
< Rachel... > he answered weakly.  
  
As I watched, Tobias fought Visser Three with a vengenence that surprised me. Visser Three was covered in blood, his arms torn off, one leg broken, both stalk eyes blinded by blood. But Tobias had large bloody cuts decorating his fur.  
  
< This is for my father, > Tobias finally said. < Prince Elfangor. >  
  
I could smell the fear emanating from Visser Three, as Tobias closed his jaws around the Visser's throat. But . . . a last second, almost desperate lunge by the Visser sunk his tail deep into Tobias's chest.  
  
< NO! > I screamed. < TOBIAS! >  
  
But there was no answer. There would never be an answer.   
  
Tobias died instantly, killing Visser Three. He died with honor, as the others told me.  
  
Not like that ever made me feel better. What does honor mean? I didn't want medals. I wanted Tobias!  
  
I awoke from the memory with a start. Awakening. Yes, that was the right word. Like I had been on the other side of a two-way mirror, unable to see anything. My memory had been a blanket of grief surrounding me, separating me from the real world.  
  
I blinked and realized that Marco was staring at me. He met my gaze, answering my unspoken questions.  
  
"Rachel, we need you," he said softly. "I know where you've been. I've been through the same pain. I've been through the same pity. But...Rachel, are you okay?"  
  
Yes, I missed Tobias. I always would. He'd always seemed to complete me. He understood me better than anyone else ever could. But . . . he wouldn't have loved the me I was now. I had to stop mourning and work. In Tobias's name.  
  
"Yes, Marco, I'm okay," I answered with a slight smile, then adding "brother". His eyes widened slightly and then he smiled, accepting the title.  
  
"Well, sister, why don't you meet your nephew, Tobias," he said, somewhat mockingly.   
  
I slowly stood up, walking carefully out of my room and downstairs. Cassie was there, holding a baby boy. She looked up and stared at me. Marco, behind me, nodded slightly, and her eyes filled with tears. She wordlessly stood up and handed the baby to me.   
  
I held little Tobias in my arms. He made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. I laughed. And I swear the world laughed with me.   
  


**THE END  
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End file.
